


under the water

by hexicity



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Oneshot, Prompt Fill, Violence, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-09 20:32:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12283881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hexicity/pseuds/hexicity
Summary: "It’s like learning to surf, remember?” Jace whispers as he dips his fingers in white, silky paint and drags them across Simon’s cheeks, marking him as a warrior of the holy resistance and at the same time sending shivers down Simon’s spine. There’s war drums in the distance, reverberating so loud that Simon can feel their calls deep within his chest. “Simon, look at me.”He looks up at Jace’s eyes. They burn above the white on his cheeks, like twin golden suns rising above calm sea water. “No one ever put armor on me when I was surfing.”(from the "ways to say i love you" prompt list)





	under the water

He’s just getting the hang of it--nothing feels real but that’s apparently part of the experience. 

“It’s like learning to surf, remember?” Jace whispers as he dips his fingers in white, silky paint and drags them across Simon’s cheeks, marking him as a warrior of the holy resistance and at the same time sending shivers down Simon’s spine. There’s war drums in the distance, reverberating so loud that Simon can feel their calls deep within his chest. “Simon, look at me.”

He realizes that he was staring vacantly at Jace’s chest. Or, more specifically, at the small section of his chest that isn’t covered by protective armor. They’d somehow come up short, leaving one warrior without a breastplate. And Jace, predictably, had taken his off immediately and offered it to the lone soldier. Now there’s a triangular section of exposed flesh and bones, just big enough for an arrow to pierce. If it’s shot by someone with perfect aim. 

He looks up at Jace’s eyes. They burn above the white on his cheeks, like twin golden suns rising above calm sea water. “No one ever put armor on me when I was surfing.”

His voice doesn’t sound entirely relaxed, and Jace blinks in automatic concern when he realizes this. 

“You said that when your father taught you to surf, you were terrified. But then the first time you went out onto the water, there was this monster wave on your first run. The first huge situation to deal with, and it was on your very first time.” Jace recounts the story with perfect detail and his lips quirk up at the end, just slightly. 

“I have shit luck.” Simon whispers, even less relaxed than before somehow. 

“But you said that having him a few feet away helped. And you fell off your board and you went under, but he grabbed you and you were both fine.” Jace finishes. “And it’s like that right now, okay? I’m right here. I’ll be here the whole time.”

Battlefields, Simon thought for some reason, were supposed to be orderly. Ranks were supposed to stand in lines and people were supposed to have places to run if they got hit. There was supposed to be big rocks that you could duck under and wait for the bullets to stop. 

But there’s nothing. There’s a field that stretches into oblivion and there’s nothing that God allowed to grow upward that could act as any sort of shield. There’s no lines or order or pulling of punches. There’s chaos. That’s all it is. 

There’s so much noise that Simon feels like he’s drowning. But the second he manages to swim to the surface and take a breath, there’s an axe being swung at his head. And the clang of metal against metal seems to shatter his eardrums while Jace yells something from a few feet away, and Simon’s pulling at his axe because it’s stuck in--something. And he kind of needs it back. 

He yanks. He hears Jace’s yell again and the urgency rises and with a final strain of every muscle beneath his armor-clad skin the axe comes loose. There’s blood on it, Simon realizes distantly as he looks at the weapon with war-clouded eyes. He glances down and sees that it was stuck in someone’s chest. 

“Simon!” 

He’s back by Jace’s side within seconds. He refuses to let the riptides pull them apart and forces himself to move alongside Jace, trying to quickly dispose of anyone who interrupts that. 

There’s this particular guy. He’s bulky, crafted specifically for war. He has his enormous hand at Simon’s neck as if he can simply end him with a simple motion, like turning off a light switch. Simon holds his axe to the guy’s neck and strains, trying to swim up again as black edges invade his vision. Clearly the waterline is higher than before, and Simon’s exhausted but his father’s voice is telling him to just keep kicking the ocean and the ocean will eventually stop fighting back. 

An arrow whizzes past Simon’s shoulder and hits his hand. Square in the center of his palm. He drops his axe and for some reason the wound doesn’t even hurt, not like it would if he were in the ocean. 

Perfect aim, he thinks distantly, and then Jace screams. 

“No,” Simon yanks the arrow from his hand and stabs it into something (a neck, a chest, a shoulder?) before running to Jace. 

“Your hand,” Jace rasps vacantly when Simon joins him on the ground, “that looks bad.”

The arrow is directly in the center of the little triangle. The one spot where Jace’s armor doesn’t overlap. 

“No.” Simon says with finality. He shakes his head, and Jace just watches him with a shadow of a smile. That little, stubborn smile that he does when he refuses to admit that he’s endeared. “Jace, you’re fine. You’ll be fine.”

“Simon--” A small gush of blood from Jace’s lips accompany his name. 

“ _No_.” Simon repeats, already gathering Jace up. He feels Jace’s body tense and resist, becoming like lead in Simon’s arms. “Jace. Let me pick you up.”

“Look around you.” Jace whispers. In this brief moment, things are somehow quiet despite the brutality ripping at the edges of their crouching bodies. They’re clinging to the surfboard for mere moments and Simon is looking at him across the water, just before another wave will come and pull him back under. “You can’t make it back with me. You need to go.”

“I am not leaving you.” Simon enunciates, pulling at Jace’s arms again. Why won’t he listen?

“Simon--”

“I’m not leaving you!” Simon screams. The scream rips itself from his throat and leaves him aching, but Jace’s body stops resisting just slightly. “Do you understand me? I will not fucking leave you here. And if I get shot on the way back, at least I’ll get shot trying to save the love of my fucking life!”

Jace’s body relaxes. His lips quirk. Simon picks him up. 

The mass of bodies surrounding them and the invisible force field of the moment collide, shattering all safety into pieces. Simon holds onto Jace with every bit of strength he possesses and runs, and runs, and runs, and runs. 

The shore is a welcome sight. The steps to the Citadel have blood running down the slanted marble in waves, and Simon slips once before righting himself again and continuing to run. 

He lays Jace against the stone when he’s at the top. There are other people there, grabbing at them and trying to speak to them. There’s flashes of blue and purple over Jace’s wound. Magic, Simon realizes, and then someone takes his hand and tries to make the same flashes over him. He yanks his hand away feebly and points at Jace. The hand complies. 

Jace’s eyes flutter open and he takes a breath, the most desperate pulling in of air that Simon’s ever seen. 

Someone pulls at Simon’s hand again. Jace is fine now, Simon’s brain tells him, so it’s his turn now.

He’s out from under the waves, but he isn’t breathing any better. He goes black.

**Author's Note:**

> this is so emo and kinda ends abruptly but? i feel like its more intense if it just cuts away. theyre both fine though and their friends take care of them :') if you wanna leave a prompt, im on tumblr @simonlewhiss


End file.
